


Five Years of Coming Together

by Trista_zevkia



Series: Coming Together [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Anniversary, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:05:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark was going to make Bruce love him, that was the plan. It was working, but something changed. Clark has to come up with a new plan to find out what went wrong.</p><p>Hell, he's going to kidnap Batman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Years of Coming Together

Clark Kent was a patient man, but, it seemed, not as patient as he had believed. Five years ago, he had decided to do whatever was necessary to become indispensable to his partner, which would grow into love. It’d been working, he knew it had, but it wasn’t any longer. Unrequited love was unacceptable in this case.

There was an anniversary coming up and he doubted the individual involved even knew about it. Which was irritating, because the man remembered everything, and stored it away like a sponge. Clark paused his thoughts a moment and tried to picture Bruce Wayne dressed up like _Spongebob Squarepants_. It was almost funny, except the scowl ruined the innocent, carefree nature of that iconic cartoon character. Still, Clark had to wipe a rather predatory grin off his face as he entered Gotham airspace; he had a long-term plan. 

A good plan that depended on Bruce acting like he always did, a plan Batman would’ve appreciated if he wasn’t on the receiving end. It was Batman’s fault, really. Clark had always been open and honest, it was Batman who imposed rules and set limits on their relationship. And it was Batman who was pulling Bruce away, into a world of darkness and pain. What he and Bruce had wasn’t perfect but it had been better, until about a year ago. 

Clark had no idea what happened but Bruce had stopped coming to Metropolis unless Batman was needed there. He didn’t tell Clark to leave him alone, but he pushed him away. Wouldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t let him into Gotham without permission. Wouldn’t let him sleep in that enormous bed with him no matter how long they’d spent having sex in that same bed. Bruce had actually made Alfred set up the next room over for Clark to sleep in. 

It angered Clark, but he’d come up with a solution shortly afterward: the dawn attack. The start of a new day always made him frisky, to put it politely, and it was when Bruce was the most vulnerable. A day at work and social functions as Brucie, followed by a death defying night as Batman would exhaust anybody. Batman would finish up what he was doing about two hours before dawn, as apparently even the Joker slept sometime. It took him about an hour to input data in his vast computer systems, shower, snack and fall into bed. 

And then, when Bruce was deepest in his sleep and the rising sun stoked Clark’s fires, Bruce couldn’t resist him. Couldn’t scare him out with a Bat-growl or kill his desire with an insult. Dawn was the most special time of day, because that was the closest the universe ever came to being perfect. 

When Clark landed on the balcony of the master bedroom at Wayne Manor this morning, he was half-hard with anticipation. He reached for the door and found it locked. This was the first time it had been locked and it startled Clark. The dawn attacks had worked for the last year, but Clark felt like it was only a matter of time until Bruce stopped those as well. He had previously thought that if Bruce didn’t secretly like the dawn attack method he would have taken preventative measures, and it seem Bruce had. 

Clark checked the security system and determined it wasn’t active around the balcony door. The lock was more symbolic than effective, and Bruce was very good at effective if he wanted to be, so Clark looked for Bruce. Gorgeous as always, but with an arm wound covered in bandages, and half an erection under the expensive sheets. Clark smirked; Bruce liked the dawn attacks after all. A quick burst of controlled heat vision neatly split the bolt on the lock and allowed him to enter the door. 

By the time he made it to the bed, Clark was naked but he spent a few minutes assessing his prey. The arm wound wasn’t too bad, but looked like an acid burn so Clark made a mental note to avoid the whole arm. No other new wounds, so Clark allowed himself to slide the sheet out of the way. Bruce smiled a little in appreciation of the sensation. It was fortunate the man had no idea how expressive he was when he was asleep. If he knew, he would lock himself in a lead lined underground vault where no one would ever see him sleep again. 

Clark hovered over the prone form and traced his hands across Bruce’s contours and scars, hands a cell’s width from touching him. Bruce pushed toward the sensation but the ghost touch wouldn’t rouse him out of sleep. Clark did this for as long as he could stand it, until he was fully erect with the notion of the pleasure he was providing the other man. 

He trailed his way to Bruce’s arousal and started blowing, all without touching. By changing the temperature of his breath he soon had Bruce hard and moaning wantonly, eyes flickering behind eyelids as his dreams changed to match what was really happening. Sometimes, he could get Bruce to moan his name, which filled Clark with pride. Clark paused to admire his hands-free handiwork and a sleeping Bruce reached for his own cock. 

Grabbing the lube, he had his hand and cock coated and was touching Bruce for the first time today; a finger on a thigh. Bruce awakened like someone had fired a gun, like he always did when touched unexpectedly. Bleary eyed and in a crouched position, he scanned the room for threats and found only a naked alien. 

He flopped back on the bed and glared at Clark, but he also parted his legs for easier penetration. Clark showed Bruce his most seductive grin before taking him up on the invitation. He went as slowly as he could, but all too soon explosions of pleasure had him screaming Bruce’s name and a few other things he was really glad were in Kryptonion. 

A quick trip to the bathroom and he was cleaning Bruce off so delicately that the man was asleep before he could tell Clark to get out. Which, in Clark’s mind, was an invitation to stay. He cleaned himself off and tossed the towel into the hamper, unlike Bruce who flung things everywhere. A side effect of never having to pick up his own things, Clark reflected as he spooned himself to Bruce. His protective, loving smile was tolerant of that shortcoming. The smile tightened as he thought about how Bruce’s other shortcoming was something he was no longer tolerant off. He drifted off to sleep, running the plan over in his mind for the thousandth time. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

It was a beautiful Saturday outside the heavy curtains, but Clark was too happy to leave for anything less than an Earth shattering emergency. So when he heard soft footfalls on the think carpeting outside the door, he faked sleep. Alfred opened the door and set the coffee tray on a bedside table while heading for the curtains, letting Clark force himself to awaken with shock at the light pouring in, just like Bruce. 

When Alfred saw him, he got breakfast because not even Batman wanted to appear rude in front of Alfred. A glance at the heady aroma of the coffee and Clark blushed. How had Alfred known to bring two coffee cups? Thankfully, there was no form of torture on this planet that could make him ask Alfred that, as Alfred might find the question rude. After all, if Batman respected someone there was probably very good reason. 

“Master Kent, as noon is almost upon us, I have taken the liberty of preparing lunch. It will be served as soon as Master Bruce makes it downstairs.” Alfred left smartly, and Clark glanced at his bedmate. As if on cue his stomach growled, but Bruce only grunted as he tried to snuggle back into his pillows. 

“Come on, Bruce. Alfred’s holding that delicious food of his hostage until you get up.” Teasing hands didn’t seem to be doing much, as Bruce just rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. “You asked for it.” 

Two strong arms and two quick legs later and they were in the shower together. The warm water splashed Bruce’s face until he woke up enough to punch it off. He was rubbing at his body with a towel when Clark came over and started blow drying his hair. Bruce reached over, grabbed the blow dryer out its hidden place on the wall and pointed it at Clark. Clark stepped inside the range of the appliance and started nibbling on Bruce’s neck. Bruce let him do this for a solid minute before stepping out of his embrace. The look in those eyes told Clark the Bat was awake and he braced himself for whatever was coming. 

“I think you’re taking the ‘buddies’ part of fuck buddies too seriously.” He growled out the word fuck, knowing it would make Clark blush. 

Clark did blush, but he thought of the plan and grinned back at Bruce. This startled Bruce, which made the smile even wider. Just to rub it in, he started whistling _I Can’t Live with You_ by Queen as he headed into the bedroom to pull on some clothes. Bruce was looking at him as if he suspected Kryptonite poisoning when he finally emerged from the bathroom. 

Clark settled in a chair and sipped his coffee while watching Bruce get dressed. He allowed himself to visibly enjoy the beauty and grace of Bruce simply pulling on clothes between swigs of coffee. Once dressed, Bruce scowled as he led him downstairs to a heavily laden table with a stack of newspapers by one chair. 

The scrumptious lunch was almost gone when Bruce folded his last newspaper. Clark knew from experience that one more swig of coffee and Bruce would be gone for the day. “I have an idea I need to discuss with you, Bruce.” 

Bruce stared at him as he swirled his coffee threateningly. His inference was clear, ‘make it good farm boy or I’m out of here.’ Clark allowed his eyes to roll; only Bruce could make a cup of coffee threatening and insulting. 

“A lot of people have been cropping up recently, people with gifts that are trying to help people. Heroes, or people who want to be heroes. You should be able to appreciate that desire. I thought it would be a good idea to get them together, outside of an emergency and talk about possible team-ups. For when an emergency was too much for one person to handle alone or they need some other form of support.” 

Bruce sipped his coffee, an unconscious gesture that showed he was thinking. “I had a similar idea, but thought of it more as a training academy. A safe place to practice your skills before getting yourself or an innocent hurt.” 

Clark tried to damper down his grin before Bruce noticed it. Bruce had a different, more independent version but it was still the same idea. It always filled Clark with pleasure when Bruce didn’t shoot his ideas down instantly. A complement was clearly too much to expect, so Clark had to take what he could get. 

“Sure, it could be both. Learning from each other and having support when you need it. Such a project would get done a lot quicker if a great detective were tasked with tracking down the participants.” Clark tried to sound innocent when he said this, but grinned at Bruce’s disbelieving ‘you’re trying psychology on me’ face. “I could do it, after all I’m an experience investigative reporter, but it would take years. You could probably have the thing set up in, I don’t know, six months?” 

He threw the date out there, as if he had just pulled it out of the air, as if it meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

“Fine.” Bruce acquiesced, as if the date meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Clark hid his disappointment in a swig of his coffee and settled down to hash out the details. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark had thought the hardest part of his plan would be the waiting for six months to get to the ultimate goal. Stopping the dawn attacks, however, had been much more painful than he expected. His body growled its need at him and thoughts of Bruce filled his days and dreams. What hurt the worst was that when they had to work together; Bruce seemed relieved that the dawn attacks had stopped. He never said so, never asked who Clark was dating now and never tried to initiate anything. 

This had been a possible side effect of his plan, but Clark had really hoped Bruce would have changed his mind just from the sudden abstinence. So, when Bruce asked him to stop by the cave before sunset, hope surged. Clark had been planning on saying no if Bruce did initiate anything, but he was now more desperate than he could ever remember being. 

Entering the cave, he followed the sound of Bruce’s heartbeat into a tunnel he had never been down before. It was brightly lit and the cave wall was hidden behind colorful drapes of fabric. The circle of light contained a chair and an armor clad Batman. Clark swallowed his disappointment and forced his voice to pleasant tones as he landed beside Bruce. Bruce had his cowl off but worked the electronic device in his hands with thick, armored gloves. 

“If you’re trying to fix that thing, wouldn’t it be easier without the gloves?” Batman glared at him as he flipped the device closed and righted it. Clark was immensely surprised to see it was a common, mid-priced, and therefore hard to trace, video camera. 

“Script’s on the chair.” 

Confused and clueless, Clark figured the script held more answers than Batman’s scowl as he stepped out of the light. A super-speed read through and Clark figured out what was going on. With the script implanted in his memory, he sat on the chair but held up a questioning hand. 

“Why am I always saying ‘I’? I can’t imagine that you’re going to make a separate video?” 

Bruce snorted. “This is your project, I’m just the tech support.” 

“You’re my partner in getting this thing going! You are coming to the meeting, aren’t you?” Clark tried not to let panic into his voice; the plan required Batman to attend. 

“Well…” Bruce started, running his gloved hand over his hair. Over the pounding of his heart, Clark could see Bruce shift into Brucie mode as that guy was made to be totally unreliable. 

“Bruce, if you don’t go, I don’t go. This whole thing will have been a waste of time …” Clark stopped for two reasons. First, he wasn’t sure how he was going to end that sentence without revealing his ulterior motive. Second, Bruce was getting that look that said he was about to adjust the truth to suit his agenda. “You were going; you just wanted to watch from the control room and not have to talk to anybody!” 

“Being an urban legend makes me even scarier when I drop out of the night sky. I can’t exactly go walking around a hotel lobby with a nametag.” 

Clark closed his eyes and tried to look exasperated instead of relieved. As long as Bruce was there it would work. And if Bruce wasn’t there, he would just have to kidnap the man and risk putting him on the defensive. A defensive Batman could wreck the whole plan by his inability to cooperate without a very logical reason. Clark opened his eyes and frowned at Bruce. “I want you to promise me that you will be in the same room, so they at least have a chance of meeting you.” 

“Fine. But you don’t get to point me out.” 

Clark grinned at the idea of Bruce doing his ninja thing in a brightly lit conference room. “Absolutely. I won’t even mention your name. You can be as spooky as you want.” 

Bruce allowed his face to show his annoyance before putting the camera up to his eye. Clark allowed his happiness to project into the little red recording light. 

“Hello, I’m Superman. You are receiving this video because you have special skills and the desire to help people. I might know you; maybe we have even worked together before. I have an idea that I would like to meet with you and discuss. I figure Teaming up against large threats would be more efficient if we had an idea of the number of people available to help and what abilities they brought to the team. Also, cross-training could greatly improve the talents brought to a situation.” Here, Clark added in his own sentiments. “Sometimes it can get hard, trying to save people who fear you or worship you like a god. Having a support network of people who understand would keep you from going crazy.” 

He grinned at the scowl Bruce gave him for going off script. “Also enclosed in this envelope is a $2,000 check card for you to use however you need. I would prefer it if you would use for travel expenses as you come to this meeting. The fake ID is to protect your secret identity and your hotel room is reserved and paid for under that name. Insert your own photo and seal the lamination as the instructions indicate. Please join us, you will be welcome.” 

He held the grin for a moment, until the recording light went out and Bruce walked over to turn off the lights. “That’ll do, Clark. You can go save the world now.” 

Clark sighed heavily at the clear dismissal. For the first time he doubted his plan, not that it would work but if it was a good idea. Maybe friends with benefits really was the best he could hope for with Bruce. His ears picked up the sound of distress so he flew that way even as he considered. 

Bruce thought he was an idiot for thinking it was love but Clark couldn’t deny what he felt. When taunting, smirking, sexy, manipulative Brucie had been shown to be controlling, demanding, sexy, creature of the night Batman, Clark had thought it was lust. When he met the real Bruce, Clark had figured out that his heart was no longer his. 

As instructed, he had tried to find somebody else and had really thought Lois had a shot. She was a lot like Bruce, strong willed, determined, intelligent but she was open and honest, like Clark. If Bruce hadn’t owned his heart, Lois might have had a chance. But each date with Lois, as Clark or Superman, had ended with a chaste kiss for Lois and a dawn attack on Bruce. There was no hope for it, his plan had to proceed, had to work, or else he would have to give up on Bruce. And Superman never gave up. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark Kent had stood in front of conference rooms full of reporters, and interviewed hostile newsworthy figures. Superman had talked to the combined front of the United Nations and other imposing, powerful governmental bodies and their respective armies. Never had he wished for the ability to blend into the shadows like Batman, but he did now. He was scared to say his piece to a room full of silent, nervous, costumed heroes. 

Clark had the idea for a team for a while but it hadn’t gotten much past the idea stage, until he needed something big to distract Bruce. Naturally, Bruce had taken this idea and pursued it with the thoroughness and determination that he applied to everything. So it was here at last and Clark was ready to make some new friends. Batman was concerned with making sure those with power did not get the chance to abuse it, but he was here. 

If Brue knew that tomorrow was their anniversary, this project and the distance Clark had kept made Bruce dismiss the date as unimportant. Buoyed by the thought that his plan was working Clark stepped up to the podium with a smile as he started on his carefully prepared speech. 

“Hello, I’m Superman. We’re so glad you could make it tonight.” He was careful not to look, but he could feel Batman glaring at him every time he used the word ‘we’ as he outlined the concept. 

He had promised not to point Batman out or even say his name, and he wasn’t going to break that promise. But Batman always underestimated just how deceptive Superman could be when he had to. Sure, he preferred to be forthright and truthful, but he was learning that sometimes that wasn’t the best way to get what you wanted. Especially with people who inhabited a world of shaded grays. 

“So, any contact information you could provided, if you’re interested, would really help this process along. Any questions?” 

There were several questions about the details Bruce and he had worked out over that lunch table so long ago, before the Flash asked the question Superman had been waiting on. 

“Who’s we, Lone Ranger?” 

Pulling a Clark move, Superman glanced nervously at the ceiling of the small auditorium they were using. He saw Bruce roll his eyes before flipping down the lenses in his cowl. Clark didn’t let his smirk show on his face as he turned back to the Flash. “Well, I didn’t do all this by myself, but the individual who helped prefers to remain in the shadows.” 

The Flash’s brain seemed to work as fast as his feet, because he was on his feet and speaking as soon as Superman finished. “You mean he’s real!” 

Some of the others were looking at Flash like they had no idea who he was talking about. Clark didn’t realize that even among heroes Batman was still an urban legend, but thought Bruce would be proud of that fact. A definite glance in Batman’s direction caused other people to start looking that way. Batman responded and Superman had to hide a laugh as he spoke. 

“Well, as he is giving me the finger for acknowledging his existence, I would suppose that means he’s real.” 

Everybody turned to look and Batman growled his annoyance for Superman’s ears only. He pushed himself off the beam he had been perched on, flipped gracefully and opened his cape to slow his descent. He landed in the middle isle so softly his knees hardly bent on impact and his cape gracefully closed around him. He let the shocked murmurs die down before stalking up to the stage to stand beside Superman. 

Clark was very, very glad the full sized podium hid his reaction to beauty of Batman in full spooky mode. He was fighting to control that response so the Flash had the chance to open his mouth again. The hero worship in his voice would have softened all but the hardest of hearts, as such it got him nowhere with Batman. 

“So Batman, you’re founding this league thing, too. Can you fly? I’ve heard you suck blood and have demon powers. Does your car really turn into an airplane? Are you going to be training and working with us a lot?” 

Batman raised his head a little and tirade of words stopped, even though the Flash looked like he had a lot more questions to ask. “Gotham is my priority. No one works in Gotham without my permission. I will be available to this league when you need my assistance, and you will need my assistance.” 

Shocked faces and murmurs at his words, but Green Lantern snorted and spoke. “Who do you think you are, some sort of superhero consultant?” 

Batman didn’t shrug, he didn’t move until silence showed he had the attention of the whole room. “Think of it this way. I’ll be watching you.” 

Voicing this calm, menacing threat he took two steps backward until only his white lenses reflected any light. Clark suddenly remembered just how spooky Bruce was at first contact and it took him a minute to settle before he turned back to the crowd. 

“Don’t let him scare you too much. It’s just his way.” With a cheery grin, he stepped down to shake hands and talk to people, always aware of Batman. 

Slowly, that notable faded completely into the shadows and most people seemed to forget he was even there. He hid out backstage for about an hour before he decided nothing exciting was going to happen at this meeting. He made it to the control booth where he changed clothes before slipping out into the lobby and elevator. 

Clark could have stayed and talked to these people all night but his Bruce attuned radar warned him the bat was planning on flying the coup. So he opened his ears and found an excuse. A quick apology and he was out the door and stopping a local carjacking. With no time for finesse, he just knocked the thugs unconscious while the couple in the car phoned the cops. He waved and flew back to the green room off the auditorium he had just been in. 

With his glasses on and a suitcase in hand, he fluffed out his cape as he walked out into the lobby. Breaking into his patented Clark shuffle, he headed for the elevator. He was almost there when an Orion slave girl draped herself across him. At the end of the light chain hanging from her neck was a tall, dignified Vulcan woman. Her face was slightly disapproving but her eyes showed love and appreciation of the slave girl as she took a picture. 

Clark knew the lust on his face would be interpreted as for them, instead of it being about how he wanted to have Bruce look at him that way. Holding a meeting of the world’s costumed heroes in the middle of a SciFi and Comic book convention had been just another one of Bruce’s strokes of genius. It was good for everybody that Clark was here to pick up where Bruce’s genius left off; the world of personal relationships. The Orion kissed him on the cheek and tapped his lenses with a long fingernail. 

“Spring for Lasik, you’ll look just like him.” The Vulcan’s picture might wind up on the internet, but no one would ever connect it to the real Superman. Then they were together and merging with the crowd. 

Clark grinned secretly to himself as he entered the elevator. Sure he was the happy, emotional slave of the stoic Batman, but despite himself Bruce hadn’t been able to let go of the leash either. He tried to force Clark to do things his way, but slave or master it didn’t matter; the leash held on to them both equally. 

Clark paused before knocking on the door in front of him to x-ray the interior. Bruce had reserved rooms for everybody else on the floor below, including Clark. Bruce had no doubt selected this room to stay close in case something happened, yet still distance himself from everybody else. Not the penthouse, as that would have been too Brucie, but still a nicer suite of rooms than anybody else had gotten. 

Bruce himself was zipping up the secret compartment of his suitcase that held the bat-suit, making sure everything was there before fleeing. Clark grinned at his accurate assessment and knocked. Bruce heard the knock and froze as he calculated who it was. Clark knocked again and Bruce glared at the door to wait him out. Clark fought the grin away from his face and voice. 

“I know you’re in there. If you don’t let me in, I’ll call the local press and let them know just who came to the Phoenix SciFi convention. Then I’ll break the door down and you can explain to the hotel how it got broken without using your real credit card and proving my report to the press.” Use Bruce’s own paranoia against him, he hated that. Clark shifted his vision back to normal as Bruce opened the door halfway. 

“I paid for you a room, I suggest you use it.” Bruce knew better than to try and slam a flimsy hotel door on the Man of Steel, so he relied on his glower to get rid of the annoyingly chipper man. 

It might have worked, except Clark was immunized by the joy of his upcoming anniversary present. Clark grinned back and shoved his way into the room, setting his suitcase on top of one of Bruce’s. Placing his glasses on top of the suitcase pile, he listened as Bruce closed and locked the door. Just after 10pm in Phoenix, so he had two hours to entertain Bruce before he demanding his present. So he started stripping slowly as he turned to face Bruce. 

Hungry, appreciative eyes watched every movement until Clark was completely naked. Only then did Bruce manage to force his eyes away, to brush imaginary lint off his pants. Hiding his desire this way would only have worked on anybody too blind to see his eyes and defiantly did not work on those who could hear his heartbeat increase. 

“I take it you’re too horny to talk to your new friends downstairs?” 

Clark stepped forward just to keep from responding with what popped into his head. (No more than usual. I’m just distracting you for two hours.)”Can’t make new friends at the expense of old friends, friends with benefits if you will.” 

Bruce took a step backward. “The night is just getting started …” 

Clark stepped forward as he interrupted. “Gotham’s fine, all your pet psychotics are taking the night off.” 

Bruce stepped away from the hands opening his shirt and hit the door. He could have dodged to the side to avoid the lips on his nipples, but stood there as skilled hands undid his pants. One solid stroke, designed to drive him crazy and he was ready, pushing hard flesh into Clark. Clark adjusted but tried to slow things down. 

He peeled the remaining clothes off Bruce in between long petting sessions. Bruce tried to force him backwards to the bed but Clark only took the occasional step. So Bruce dodged right and stalked to the bed. Clark shifted from the slowing things down plan to the double-mint plan. Double your pleasure, double your fun. 

Clark floated over to the bed and let Bruce position him while he focused his mind on a hot little debate downstairs. Why did Yoda’s body disappear as he died? Surely letting the organic components of his body return to the planet would have been more in keeping with the cyclical, natural order of things that Jedi’s were supposed to be about. 

Then Bruce was going off inside him, fighting for control of his breathing and pulling out. He had barely fallen to the sheet when Clark pointed out that he was still in need of attention by using Bruce’s dripping cum to lubricate his fingers. They dipped between splayed legs and entered Bruce like he was fragile. He worked Bruce until he was hard again, and then worked his cock and asshole until he came again. 

Clark’s erection was urgent and demanding, claiming he would injure himself if he didn’t do something with it soon. So the second coming was used to lube Clark’s penis before it could go where it so desperately needed to go. He worked so hard to keep himself from injuring Bruce in his need, he didn’t notice Bruce had got hard again until they came together. Still locked in Bruce, he let his weight hold them together while they relearned to breathe. So good, so perfect he could have stayed like that forever. 

“Get off, you’re sticking to me.” The practiced growl didn’t hold its usual venom. Bruce must have missed this also. 

“Like glue, Bruce.” Clark replied with a smile, but rolled off of his sometimes lover. 

Bruce went to the bathroom and started to shower instead of just wiping it off. Clark let him, as a shower took a longer time than a quick wipe down. As Bruce turned off the water and stepped out to dry off, Clark entered the shower. He dried off quickly and went to the living room area as Bruce started pulling his pants back on. From the suitcases came the sound of an alarm on Clark’s cell phone. Bruce turned a questioning glance at Clark and froze at the predatory look on Clark’s normally good-natured features. 

“It’s midnight Bruce.” 

Bruce stared for a moment longer before he started fastening his pants. He wasn’t sure what was going on with Clark but he was cautious enough to put some distance between them while he figured it out. He reached for his shirt as Kal-el’s commanding voice filled the suite. 

“Take off your pants.” 

A bat-glare and he deliberately pulled his shirt up an arm. Clark bared his teeth in appreciation of this defiant gesture. It wasn’t a smile, anymore than the gesture had been an effective method of resistance. Clark moved as fast as he could, stripping the man and returning him to the bedroom in a standing position. 

“I’ve told you before, resisting me, challenging me just makes me want you more.” 

Bruce held his tongue but defied Clark with every angle of his gorgeous, naked body. 

Clark walked over to flip the sheets back and dropped the towel from his waist as he moved back to stand in front of Bruce. “I’ve learned a lot from you over the years. Lots of different things, but a great deal about sex, manipulation, and planning. You don’t believe I think, but I do. It turns out a great deal of my thoughts are about you. Needing you, wanting you, trying to figure out how to make you happy, but apparently that’s impossible. So for the next 24 hours, for our anniversary, you are going to make me happy. Here, in the neutral ground of this hotel room, you are going to do whatever I tell you to do, or I will make you. Now, get in the bed.” 

The reasonable tone he worked so hard to keep in his voice fell on stone ears and arms that crossed defiantly. A single hand closed on those arms and shoved. Bruce could only glare up from his position on the bed as Clark spooned up against him and covered them with a sheet. Bruce started to move and an impossibly strong arm and leg pulled him back to where Clark wanted him. A nibble on the exposed ear was followed by a chin resting on Bruce’s head so he felt it when a soft voice spoke. 

“Now go to sleep, Bruce.” 

Bruce laid still and tried to process what was happening. Clark had him at his mercy and only wanted to literally sleep with him? Why stop the dawn attacks only to seduce him in Phoenix? When the dawn attacks had stopped, Bruce had thought this meant Clark was no longer in love with him. It had hurt to think that, quite a lot considering that was what Bruce was trying to get Clark to realize. 

It was just one of many things Clark didn’t seem to realize. Like the fact that demons existed. They emerged from alleys to orphan little kids, but Angels didn’t fall from heaven to fall in love with the demon the orphan became. Clark needed someone open, honest and true, not someone who could only hold him down in the darkness. 

When Clark first said he loved Bruce, Bruce had been convinced it was just hormones. He shouldn’t have let the sex continue but it felt so good, so perfect. Time passed and Clark would scream his love in the throes of passion and whisper it when that passion was spent. Bruce was far more secretive and careful. He would pretend to be asleep and wait patiently for Clark to fall asleep before whispering back his love. He wasn’t sure when he had started to admit to that emotion but he knew exactly when he stopped. 

It had been a quiet night in Gotham, so he checked in with Clark and found him unoccupied. A coded suggestion and they were both headed for Wayne manor. Clark reported to work the next morning and Bruce broke his fast about 11am, while reading his newspapers. A small story from last night, playing on the radio in the car on the way to work told of neighbors calling the cops because of the noise next door. 

GCPD arrived to find a six year old girl raped and beaten to death by her father. Batman had driven by the apartment building on the way to meet his lover and his lover with the super hearing had been too focused on his lust to hear her screams. If he had just stayed out a little longer, he might have saved her. Before the guilt and shame could overcome him, he decided the mission demanded his little dalliance ended. 

Bruce was a skilled actor and escape artist, but he didn’t have the ability to look into Clark’s eyes and say he didn’t love him. So he had settled for being the world’s finest jackass, trusting Clark’s need for things to be nice to send him to another partner. It should have worked; he had thought it worked until about two hours ago. Why the big charade? How much of today had been a part of Clark’s plan to get them to neutral ground, where Bruce had limited resources? 

All this plotting wasn’t really like Clark at all. Maybe Clark really was learning all this from Bruce. If so, didn’t that make Bruce some special kind of demon for teaching an angel the ways of darkness? Of course, it had surprised Bruce when Clark initiated the dawn attack instead of trying to talk Bruce into loving him. And what was all this talk of an anniversary? 

Bruce ran the numbers through his mind and could not figure out what Clark was talking about. The anniversary of their first meeting had been about six months ago, the same for the first time they had sex. The first time they had partnered up instead of just running into each other working the same case was two months away still. A softening of the body imprisoning him told Bruce that Clark was asleep and he was tempted to whisper his feelings to the night around him. Instead he turned his mind to the meditative skills that would let him think on the anniversary while he slept. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark awoke with the sun, despite the curtains working to block it. He had relaxed his hold a little in his sleep, but now he let go completely just to watch Bruce sleep. Bruce frowned a little when he realized Clark was no longer touching him but didn’t wake. Clark smiled and watched until Bruce slowly emerged from his dreams three hours later. 

He blinked his eyes open and started to smile at Clark watching him. But the Bat came awake and the smile turned into a scowl as he remembered just what was going on here. He jumped out of bed and stomped to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. Clark aimed at the doorknob but had a thought that stopped his heat vision. A quick inspection of Bruce’s suitcases and he was back in the bedroom, putting his suitcase closer to the bed. He knocked politely on the door and spoke softly. 

“I have your toothbrush and shaving kit.” A long moment and the toilet flushed before the door was opened partway. Shoving Bruce out of the way, Clark opened the door wide enough for him to enter before handing over the bag. Clark leaned against the door frame and watched a glaring Bruce go about his morning toiletries. Bruce was replacing thing in his bag when Clark asked, casually. “What alias did you use to get this room?” 

Bruce paused to focus on Clark. “Why?” 

Clark shrugged. “Don’t tell me, I’ll just go rummaging around your stuff until I find the ID and credit card.” 

Bruce closed his bag with a snap but spoke in an annoyed, yet truthful voice. “Kurt Wallander.” 

Clark grinned. “The literary Swedish detective?” 

Bruce had his bag under his arm and would have gone stomping into the other room to put on clothes, except Clark blocked the doorway. He cocked his head at Clark and growled out. “So?” 

Clark held up his hands in mock surrender and stepped out of the doorway. As Bruce stomped to his suitcases, Clark removed something from his. A dose of super-speed and Bruce was back on the bed, both hands handcuffed to the sturdy wooden headboard. He only glanced at the padded and feathered handcuffs before looking back at Clark sitting between his legs. 

A lot of work had gone into making those cuffs look like something from a novelty shop, but they were standard police issue. Clark hoped that Bruce would underestimate them and have to take seconds longer to get out of them, time during which Clark could overpower him. Clark leaned over and kissed him gently on the forehead. 

“My anniversary present, my rules.” Clark picked up the bedside phone and dialed the front desk. When the clerk answered he replied in his best imitation of Bruce’s voice. “Hi, this is Kurt Wallander. I was wondering if I could stay an extra night in this lovely room?” 

Bruce started to protest, but a not too gentle hand over his mouth stilled him. 

“Yes, just charge it to my card.” He snorted at the clerk’s comments and came up with a truthful response. “Yes, I was a little grumpy last night. But I had a great night’s sleep and am feeling like an entirely different person today. You have a nice day, now.” 

He hung up the phone to kiss Bruce on the lips. “Seems you were so irritable when you checked in last night they marked you in the file as a customer of special concern. Hungry, grumpy?” 

Without waiting for a reply, he called room service and ordered a large breakfast. He waited for the delivery while sprawled on Bruce, stoking his chest and humming along with the _Lord of the Rings_ soundtrack playing downstairs. Bruce didn’t bother getting out of the handcuffs while Clark was right there to refasten them, but they both knew all bets were off once room service knocked. 

When a cart approached their door, Clark reached up to tighten the handcuffs and kissed Bruce before the knock came. Tossing on some sweat pants, Clark opened the door with a grin. He let the guy in and was handing back the signed receipt when he saw where the waiter’s eyes were focused. Clark swallowed heavily as he looked over his shoulder. Bruce had his left hand free, but the cuffs were still swinging against the headboard. Bruce was also totally naked, and not covered with the sheet. The looks he was sending their way were pissed, but not panicked. Clark stuffed the receipt into the waiter’s hand, which brought his focus back to Clark. 

Clark was blushing deeply, but he managed a shrug as he spoke. “Just having a little fun. Enjoy the tip.” 

The waiter glanced at the tip, let his eyes widen even further than they had been and backed out quickly. Clark turned to Bruce with a grin as he pulled the cart into the bedroom. “You can afford a fifty dollar tip, can’t you ‘Kurt’? Started out as five but I had to do something to drive the image of a naked you from his mind. Believe me; it takes a lot to even momentarily forget a thing like that.” 

Bruce replied by slipping his right hand out of the cuff and sending a smoldering look at Clark. Reaching out to grab a leg, Clark pulled until both legs were on the floor and Bruce was sitting on the edge of the bed. With the cart in position, he sat beside Bruce and started to eat. When Bruce seemed disinclined to eat, Clark started shoving tiny bits of waffle into that clenched jaw. 

In between his mouthfuls, Clark talked about anything that entered his head. When Bruce relented and started eating, Clark expressed his disappointment, saying he had liked feeding Bruce. Grunting, Bruce speed up his chewing, as if to say he didn’t need feeding. 

When the food was gone, Clark made sure the hall was empty before cuffing Bruce again. By picking up the cart and speeding it out into the hallway, he was able to make it back before the cuff came off either wrist. He could have spent the day chasing down Bruce every time he tried to throw on clothes and leave, but this was more relaxing. Besides, it was a physical reminder of the fact that Bruce wasn’t in charge today. 

Clark grabbed the remote as he got comfortable against Bruce’s stiff form. Selecting a classic Jackie Chan movie he thought Bruce would like, Clark let himself pretend Bruce actually wanted to be there. Eventually, Bruce removed the cuffs but didn’t try to leave. Probably because he knew Clark wouldn’t let him, but Clark felt his acknowledgement of this fact was a minor breakthrough. When the movie finished, Clark reached for the dropped remote and froze. 

“What is it?” Bruce asked alertly. 

Clark groaned. “Earthquake off the coast of China. A ship in the direct path of the resulting Tsunami is about to sink and if the Tsunami reaches the shore thousands will die. I have to help. Promise me you’ll stay here?” 

Another meaningful look; of course Bruce would promise no such thing. Clark shrugged, he was a Boy Scout after all, and he was prepared. Before Bruce could do more than protest he was bound, gagged, and attached facedown to the metal bed frame. Clark also unplugged the cord from the phone, just in case. A gentle kiss on Bruce’s exposed backside and Clark was getting dressed. He was hoping he would get back before Bruce got out of that, so Clark could figure out _how_ Bruce got out of these things. 

Bruce’s hands were twisted up between his shoulder blades and chained to the choker on his neck. A very different type of fastener held his crossed ankles to his waist. The rope that tied the ankles to the wrists, and the arms and thighs to the bed frame was magically endowed to tighten as a person struggled. The red rubber ball mouth gag with leather straps didn’t do a thing to damper the anger in those eyes. 

“Just wait for me to get back, it’ll be easier on both of us.” It was supposed to be a command, but came out of Clark’s mouth like an exasperated request. And then he was gone, but part of him would stay focused on Bruce. 

Bruce swore viciously in his mind before determining that as soon as he got out of this he was finding out just what the hell was going on here. It just might be time to use the Kryptonite Clark had given him for emergencies. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Bruce rolled off the bed and slipped on the sweat pants Clark had abandoned earlier. Grabbing a jacket, shoes, and the first wallet he came to, Bruce’s hand closed over the doorknob as the air moved around him. Bruce cussed vigorously as he was stripped and carried back to the bed. Right after the handcuffs hanging from the headboard were reattached to his wrists, the gag was back in his mouth. 

He had to close his eyes over the Bat-glare as gentle kisses alternated against his eyelids. His best Bat-growl moved those kisses to his throat. He worked his hands free of those stupid handcuffs again and grabbed Clark’s shoulder to try and push him off. When all that did was move kisses down to his nipples, Bruce reached for the gag. Strong hands stopped him. 

“Leave the gag, until you can find something nice to say.” Bruce bristled under that command, and didn’t relax when Clark’s voice went back to normal. “Do I smell like ocean to you? Let’s shower!” 

Bruce was a stiff as a human body could be when Clark picked him up and carried him to the shower like a toddler. But if Clark wanted him to say something nice, Bruce could do that, or more specifically, Brucie could. What-the-hell-ever Clark was up to, a little role playing and seduction would get it out of him. Clark set him away from the showerhead and speed out of his super-suit before getting under the water. With Clark’s back to Bruce, the gag got removed to reveal Brucie’s vapid smile. 

Clark was aware that Bruce removed the gag and he started talking to cover up the knot of trepidation that formed in his stomach. “The earthquake wasn’t as bad as I thought. I only had to pull four sailors from the sea before picking up the ship and taking it to dry-dock. Then I used my freeze breath to create a barrier ice wall for the wave to break upon. That’s why I got back so soon, didn’t have to stay to help clean up. When I went after those sailors, I had to go underwater twice. The suit dried while I was flying but I always feel salty afterwards.” 

“Really? Did you get salt here?” With that seductive voice came a hand exploring his asscrack. 

If felt nice and Clark could really have gone along with it, except he knew Bruce was playing him. The snarling, cussing man he had snatched away from the door was much more honest than the seduction Bruce was up to now. A quick turn and he had Bruce pressed against the far wall of the shower. 

“Oh! Rough me up, Baby!” 

Such tempting words, but spoken under empty eyes. Clark let his anger show in his voice. “Listen Brucie, you and Batman can go skipping off into the sunset for all I care. This is between me and Bruce.” 

A gentle kiss on lips that were slowly losing their seductive grin, just because Clark couldn’t help himself. “Bruce, this isn’t about sex, it’s about love. That might be why you can’t logically decipher it.” 

A sad kiss on the forehead and he returned to the water, letting Bruce step out of the shower. A good rinse and Clark shut the water off before opening the curtain. Bruce dropped his towel and left the bathroom. A quick glance showed Bruce had just used the last dry towel and Clark let this little irritation color his voice. 

“Don’t bother with clothes.” He called out before closing the curtain and performing a quick spin that dried him but left the bathroom dripping. He turned on the fan to help it dry as he went to Bruce. “Having you naked all day …” 

The knock on the door that interrupted him caused a flurry of activity before a bored voice called out. “Housekeeping.” 

Bruce’s eyes shifted to crafty as he opened his mouth so Clark was covering that mouth and grabbing him with one hand. A detour to the bathroom and the gag replaced Clark’s hand. Back in the handcuffs and a blanket pulled up to hide him. Then Clark was in the sweat pants and opening the door, even as the passkey card clicked into the slot. 

“Hi!” He grinned down at the plump woman. She didn’t look too surprised or even as if she cared. “I forgot to put out the do not disturb sign, sorry. But since you’re here, I could use some fresh towels. Wait here, I’ll get the wet ones.” 

He closed the door, crossed Bruce’s wrists as he handcuffed, gagged, and covered him again before gathering the towels. With the towels under his left arm, he grabbed two twenties from ‘Kurt’s’ wallet before opening the door. They exchanged towels and he handed her the money with a wink. That got a smile out of her as she moved away and Clark smiled as he relocked the door. Snuggling up to Bruce, Clark started talking again. 

“I must really be getting to you if you were about to bring a stranger into our little domestic drama. Are you supposed to tip housekeeping? If so, how much? How do you get out of those cuffs so easily? I tried to look it up online and in magic books but all I found was something vague about wrist control. Are you hungry? It’s almost one and I could eat, but I did stop a tsunami. If you want we could skip lunch and have an early supper.” 

“Clark.” The calm voice startled him. He had been so relaxed he hadn’t notice Bruce free himself yet again. “If you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on right fucking now, I will find a way to fucking kill you with random fucking objects in this fucking hotel room.” 

His voice was perfectly reasonable while making that threat/promise, the cuss words were included to emphasis his point on the genteel ears of farmboy Kent. Clark grinned at him. “Right. Like you weren’t hoping to end up in bed with me. But to be fair to the great detective, we will look for evidence. Look, right there in your suitcase, a large bottle of coconut flavored lube …” 

“Alfred packs that part of the suitcase for me. He is very thorough and romantically inclined.” 

Clark hadn’t stopped speaking to make way for that excuse. It was because of the small box in the other suitcase. “So what does Alfred pack for you that’s kept in lead boxes? You know, the one just about the size of a kryptonite ring I gave you?” 

The calmness of his voice was only because his emotions hadn’t caught up to what had just happened yet. The pain of the betrayal was growing from his chest in sharp waves. He was up and heading for the suitcase to yank the box out and reclaim it. “God Bruce! You planned on having to kill me while attending a conference about establishing planet wide protection. You are such an ass …” 

Clark stopped his rant as he stared at what he saw. The lead box was wrapped in bright blue paper with red House of El shields decorating it. The red ribbon had happy birthday written on it in gold. The bow was flattened and holes traipsed across the paper, as if Bruce had been holding on to it for a long time. It had been just before Clark’s legal birthday when Bruce started pushing him away. 

Clark hadn’t thought much about it, as his birthday was more an observance of the day he fell to Earth, and Bruce had never given him a present before. He glanced at Bruce, who was kneeling on the bed, as if he had tried to prevent Clark from getting to the present and stopped. Now the only thing that held him in that room was his fear of acknowledging what the gift meant. Bruce was the first to look away, a defeat he covered up by sitting in a more comfortable position. 

“Entirely Alfred’s doing.” He said as he scratched as his eyebrow, conveniently keeping them from making eye contact. 

Clark settled on the bed, facing Bruce but not even allowing their knees to touch. Slowly, Clark untied the flattened ribbon and tried to peel off the tape. When revealed, the lead box had no visible opening, which delighted Clark. Only Bruce would go to this much trouble to make a person think and work for a gift. Putting it in Bruce’s suitcase was Alfred’s only culpability in this case. 

It took Clark about twenty minutes to find the three soft spots that popped the lid when pressed simultaneously. To celebrate, he stole a kiss from Bruce, who was pretending to meditate. Inside the box was another box, this one from a fine Gotham Jeweler and holding cufflinks that made Clark laugh out loud. The gold held a strange stone that Clark couldn’t identify. It was black with white specks that made it look like the night sky. Sitting in the center of the oval stone was a gold Bat-symbol. Clark smiled as he remembered that night, almost two years ago now. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

A fundraiser and puff piece in Metropolis, in which a drunken Brucie Wayne had lost his date. While looking for her, he had collided with Kent, the disaster magnet. Kent, the poor reporter, had been tasked with ushering drunken Brucie to the bathroom to clean whatever had gotten Brucie so drunk from their suits. It was only natural that they talked as they careened toward the bathroom. 

“This was the best idea your genius brain could come up with to get us out of here? I already feel dowdy enough at these things without you ruining my best suit.” Clark groused under his breath, so only Bruce could hear him. 

“Bent, it was Bent, right? Call my tailor. When he gets through with you, nobody will recognize you!” Brucie slurred out as they passed the people congregating at the doorway. 

“It’s alright for you, you get to wear expensive clothes that fit instead of having to play up the underpaid reporter bit.” 

“Have you ever thought about investing in some good jewelry? Nothing says elegant like a diamond pinky ring!” 

Clark jerked his head at the man leaving the bathroom. “We’re alone now.” 

The hands that shoved him into the stall and locked the door were, thankfully, free of enormous pinky rings. Clark grinned into those lust filled eyes. “Maybe I should wear the bat-symbol on my undershirt at these things. Might remind me that hiding in the back and only emerging to take what I want is pretty effective.” 

Bruce pulled his busy hands away and shrugged. “If you’re going to impugn my methods, maybe I should stop what I’m doing and seriously think about things.” 

“Hey, no fair taking advantage of a man’s arousal to avoid examining your life choices.” Clark replied and Bruce stuck his tongue out at him. Clark leaned in and wrapped his lips around Bruce’s tongue. A small giggle escaped Clark, before a couple of men entered. Then they had to make love in silence with only one pair of feet showing at a time. A feat accomplished by his ability to fly and Bruce’s dexterity. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark glanced at the tense, sullen Bruce across the bed from him now and smiled. “Funny, I don’t remember Alfred even being in Metropolis for that little conversation about jewelry. Shall I call him and ask where he got the idea for this little gift?” 

Bruce opened his eyes, but didn’t move out of his meditative posture as he glared. Clark smirked. “So Bruce, what kind of device did you install in my cufflinks?” 

Bruce cleared his throat and studied the curtains. 

“This another puzzle? You want me to x-ray it and determine what it does?” 

“No.” Bruce, growled out. “I made the stone, it’s inert but reactive. So if Clark Kent gets in a situation where can’t become Superman without losing his secret identity, a burst of x-ray vision will cause the stone to emit an inaudible signal. My computer is set up to monitor for this signal and will automatically track it while alerting me.” 

“Wow!” Clark was a little lost for words, impressed by the lengths Bruce would go to just to help him keep his secrets. Or would have gone to, two years ago. To fight back the disappointment that came with this thought, Clark pulled one of the cufflinks from the holder. He rolled it in the light and realized it was engraved. 

_K  
Love  
B_

Clark closed his eyes against the rush of emotions, but they escaped in his voice. “Please Bruce. You have to talk to me. You have to tell me how you could inscribe a word you couldn’t say, just before turning yourself into the world’s biggest bastard.”

Clark opened his eyes in the silence that followed his plea, just to see emotions dying in Bruce’s eyes. He was clamping down on what he felt, letting his brain override his heart. Finally he spoke in an emotionally dead voice. “If you’re not going to let me leave, I could eat now.” 

Clark instantly pinned Bruce to the headboard with a foot to the chest as he casually lined the lead box with Superman wrapping paper. The cufflinks were nestled securely in the lead box and the lid closed before he looked at Bruce. “I don’t believe you when you say such things. Your body doesn’t give off any signs of deception, because you won’t let it. This box? It holds empirical evidence of your thoughtfulness and love. I’ve got to admit, that’s a much better present than I hoped for when I decided what I wanted for our fifth anniversary.” 

Bruce groaned and covered his eyes with his palms. “What is all this crap about an anniversary?” 

Clark shook his head sadly as he lowered his foot. He had hoped time would allow Bruce to figure it out. “It is the fifth anniversary of my epiphany. After the first time we had sex together, you and me without our alter egos getting in the way, I realized the truth. You would always stand up to me; keep my ego from getting out of control. Always challenge me to do more things and do them better. I realized I loved you and confessed my love. You panicked, which for you means trying to force the universe to make logical sense.” 

“You told me it was just because you were so good at sex. Yet every day since then, even when I avoided having sex with you, I have loved you more. Even if we had never slept together, I would still love you. The sex is great, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything, but it is not all I love about you.” Clark stopped talking when he saw the sorrow in Bruce’s eyes that were so fascinated by the curtains. “Bruce, I know you can’t be that open about your feelings, but I need you to talk to me.” 

More silence and sorrow filled eyes. 

“Don’t you believe in love?” 

“It’s not if I believe in love, it’s if love believes in me.” The soft words were almost sung to a sad tune, before Bruce was up and moving. Selecting an empty spot of floor, he dropped and started pumping out pushups. 

Clark sighed heavily before getting up and placing his precious cufflinks in his suitcase. He was retrieving the remains of the restraining device he had used during the tsunami, when he stiffened and turned east. After a few moments of listening he turned a calculating look on Bruce, who had stopped in mid push to stare back. 

A few seconds later and an angry Bruce slammed his head into the headboard behind him. “I thought we were passed this whole handcuffing me to the bed thing.” 

Clark shrugged as he crossed his ankles behind Bruce’s back and used his legs to pin down Bruce’s. “Yes, but we both know you’ll get serious about escaping if something goes wrong in Gotham.” 

“What about Gotham?” 

Clark looked at him in surprise. “You don’t have a device to notify you when Gordon activates the Bat-signal?” 

Batman glared at him as he spoke, calling him a liar. “It’s too early, the sun is still up, so Gordon wouldn’t be trying to signal me now.” 

“You’re right. There is no emergency in Gotham. Two-Face did not just help Joker get out of Arkham Asylum.” 

Batman growled his anger, but his newly freed hands couldn’t budge Superman’s legs. He grabbed the phone only to see it was still unplugged. He dropped it back on the table and sagged into the headboard. “Dam it, Clark. Tell me the truth!” 

“You first.” Clark kept his focus on distant Gotham but his voice was a command. Bruce watched Clark listen for a long minute before slamming his head into the headboard again. He must have liked it, because he looked like he was about to do it again, so Clark shoved a pillow behind that head. “Throwing a tantrum because you can’t always get your way?” 

“The truth Clark? Something I’ve been keeping from you to protect your precious feelings and optimism?” 

The anger was expected, the condescending tone hurt, but Clark felt like he was getting at the truth at last. He forced himself not to react, to be perfectly still least he scare Bruce off. 

“A little girl died because I was thinking about you. I cannot allow that to happen again. You are the love of my life, but the mission is my life. You interfered with the mission and must be excised.” 

Clark ignored the pain and joy caused by those words and let his mind match up the date with cases in Gotham, until he focused on Bruce in understanding. “Ladonna Linda Langley, called Elli by her friends and family because of all the l’s in her name. Six years old, the subject of a bitter custody battle between divorcing parents, both of who claimed the other beat her. During the court proceedings they found out her blood type didn’t match up, but she was sent with her father of record for the weekend anyway. He told police that since she wasn’t his kid the sex was consensual and he didn’t mean to kill her. That case Bruce, that’s the one that drove you from me?” 

A curt nod of acknowledgment was met with a long hug as Clark tried to heal Bruce through touch. 

“Bruce, how can you blame yourself for that little girl?” 

“I was driving by her building, lusting after you when her guardian hurt her and I didn’t hear her pain. I know where I was and what I was doing at the estimated time of death, when I should have been beating that man like he beat her.” 

“Oh.” Clark breathed as he made the connection Bruce was still avoiding. “You blame yourself for distracting me. You think if I was alone, I would have gone to her rescue. I should have figured this was a case of your pride blinding you to the truth.” 

That little insult confused Bruce more than anything, which was what Clark wanted. A thinking Bruce would see the flaw in his blame game. “Years ago, I told you I hated having to stop and recharge, because people died while I did. You told me that recuperation allowed me to help more people, which was better in the long run. Yet how many times have we been interrupted, and I have to leave you to tend to yourself while I save people? I am incapable of making love to you with the sounds of despair in my ears.” 

Clark paused to find a way to make one of his observations make sense. “Gotham is a quiet city. There is traffic noise and electronics and mechanics but not much people noise. Nobody wants to attract attention to themselves. It’s like they think ‘sure I’m being mugged, but that’s better than Joker gas.’ They were that way before you came along, and apparently they teach that quiet fear to their children. She didn’t scream, the neighbors called the police because the father was making too much noise smashing things against the walls. If Elli had made any sound, I would have left you there and saved her. I’m sorry Bruce, but that little girl was beyond our ability to help.” 

Clark slid forward to give Bruce a real hug, bare chests pressed together. Clark was out of words and ideas. If Bruce didn’t get through this, Clark had no idea what he would do next. So Clark hugged him, and whispered words of forgiveness into his ears. As time passed, Clark simply prayed an emergency wouldn’t drag him away at this crucial point. After an eternity a left arm wrapped around his neck while the right hand rested on his head. There was a hard bite on his collar bone that hurt Bruce’s teeth, who used the pain to propel himself into speaking. A jumble of words, too far out of control to be fake, the essence of an honest Bruce. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t make mistakes. I can’t make everything perfect. I’m sorry, Elli. I’m sorry, Clark. I didn’t mean it. Clark, I love you, ok? I love you so much it hurts, blinds me. Perfection. Everything I’ll ever need or want. Angel with a demon. Please love me, my love.” 

The body hanging on him sagged, exhausted from releasing things held inside far too long. Clark held him and adjusted until they were lying together on the bed. He stroked Bruce’s arms and whispered confirmations of his unending love. While he did this, Clark decided he was exhausted too. 

He had hoped to find out what was wrong with Bruce during their day together. At worst, he would have day of just spending time with Bruce to hold in his memory. This catharsis and declaration of love was more than he had dared to wish for. Beside him, Bruce was slowly relaxing as he fell asleep. Clark smiled happily and snuggled down to join him. Perfection achieved. 

Bruce awoke a short time later, confused and embarrassed by his little emotional breakdown. Apparently his logic had been flawed, and it was only right that someone he loved should point it out to him. There were so few people that fit that description he should have remembered how lucky he was to have Clark. 

Clark looked so happy as he slept, more relaxed than he had been since Bruce started pushing him away. He was completely in love with Clark and couldn’t bring himself to purposely hurt the man anymore. Bruce sighed to himself as he figured out just how much he had to make up for. Slipping quietly from the bed, he crept into the living area of the suite and picked up the phone there. He had no idea what time it was, but Alfred picked up on the third ring. 

“Wayne Manor.” 

“Alfred, how’s Gotham?” 

“Gotham sir? From Master Kent’s email, I was under the impression such things were not to concern you today.” 

“If you’re going to start plotting to have me kidnapped, I think I’ll be reading your email from now on.” 

“Plotting is hardly a fair observation, sir. I merely received a personal email last night, after you had left and did not feel the need to share its contents with you.” 

“Fine, you’re not legally culpable. But you can make it up to me by moving Clark’s things back into the master bedroom.” A pause where he could hear Alfred smirk, but in a very dignified way. 

“Be sure to ask Master Clark if he has any preferential food staples I should stock up on.” 

“I will, if you tell me about Gotham.” 

“I have been monitoring the news, as have your computer systems. There has been nothing that requires your attention, or I would have disregarded Master Clark’s email and contacted you.” 

“Of course you would Alfred, I’m sorry I forgot that about you.” A pause to let his apology cover the past year or so, and then a smile in his voice. “That Clark’s a real piece of work, isn’t he Alfred?” 

“If I may say so sir, it takes one to know one.” 

“See you tomorrow, Alfred.” 

“Tomorrow, sir.” 

Bruce hung up the phone and looked up at Clark standing in the doorway. Clark grinned down at him. 

“I’ll make up a list of my favorite foods and include any recipes I can get from my Mom.” 

Bruce sprawled wantonly across the chair beside the phone, running a hand down his chest as he looked up at Clark. Despite him wanting Bruce to run around naked all day, Clark was still affected by blatant sexuality. Heat was rising in his cheeks and he was licking his lips just at the sight of Bruce’s wondering hand. 

“So, Clark. How firm is this no sex policy you have established?” 

“Well Bruce …” Clark started to say, only to lose his focus as he listened to something outside Bruce’s hearing. There was disappointment and annoyance in his voice now. “Bomb threat at the British Embassy in Kenya.” 

Bruce shrugged casually at him. “Go on then, I’ll be here when you get back.” 

Clark grabbed him out of the chair and spun around several times in mid air. He set a dizzy Bruce back in the chair, dressed and left via the balcony. 

Bruce let the disorientation pass before finding a clear space to stretch his body. As much as Bruce hated to, they would have to do a lot of talking before it was all okay again. But between the dreams Clark gave him during a dawn attack and the things his mind had come up with during six months of celibacy, Clark was in for a night that would tax the endurance of the Man of Steel. And his ideas for revenge about the dawn attacks? They were a little evil, but the Angel would really enjoy them. 

sB _Sb_ Bs


End file.
